


Stimulating

by hannahrhen



Series: Used and Abused [2]
Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Bondage, Erotic Electrostimulation, Established Relationship, Forced Orgasm, M/M, Warning: Loki
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-09
Updated: 2014-02-09
Packaged: 2018-01-11 17:59:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1176145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannahrhen/pseuds/hannahrhen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki discovers how Midgardians milk bulls. And then he captures Thor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stimulating

**Author's Note:**

> **Note re: noncon:** This assumes a consensual sexual relationship overall but a situation here that is noncon. In other words, **Warning: Loki.**
> 
> Originally posted on tumblr, though changed somewhat and with a different ending here!

Thor had stopped shouting curses after the fourth time Loki pressed the button. Had stopped crying out altogether after the sixth. Seventh?

Loki was losing count.

He wondered if Thor were keeping count. Noticed that Thor couldn’t _not_ watch, eyes avid and desperate, as Loki’s fingers stroked the controller under his hand. Couldn’t not let his eyes roll over to his once-brother, who sat (lounged) in a soft, fat chair less than a dozen feet away.

Capturing Thor had been challenging. Holding him? Easier, despite the explicit, detailed threats of grave bodily harm the fool had thrown his way. Thor was bound now, entirely bared and spread into the shape of an X, on crossed beams that resembled deep, glossy wood but were only Loki’s conjuring. Bindings resembling rope but just as ephemeral.

Loki hadn’t covered his eyes. Hadn’t stopped his mouth. Wanted Thor to see … and wanted to hear Thor as well.

Oh, Midgardians and their perverse devisings.

He ran a gentle hand over the ridge of his own hard cock, just covered in the soft fabric of his loose trousers, then teased the fingers of his other over the pad that contained the single, round button. (Thor stared again, brows coming together as he fretted.  _Weakling._ ) When he’d learned of this device they used to milk their bulls, to force their ejaculations without rutting, he’d been at first just puzzled. Even speechless.

But when he’d understood what it did—

And with electricity? _Divine._

It didn’t take long to modify one for his particular use.

Well, fine—for  _Thor’s_  particular use. Loki chuckled, and Thor’s eyes, which had squeezed shut, opened again and settled quickly on his face.

“Loki—,” he croaked, a warning and a plea.

Loki pressed the button. The device’s sibling, inside Thor’s body, coursed fearsome bolts of lightning into that already-throbbing prostate.

Loki's cock jumped under his hand. Thor … simply _trembled._  It was beautiful. _He_ was beautiful. Every muscle in Thor's frame tensed, wrists and ankles jerking at the restraints, candlelight glistening off his straining torso—but, no, he couldn’t free himself, no matter how hard he tried. A broken little whimper was the only noise he could manage, and just before Loki released the button again, gave him relief, the whimper was bitten back and swallowed.

Thor, after all, was trying to preserve his pride.

His _pride._

Loki could have laughed again, but instead he observed the seed oozing from the tip of Thor’s cock, joining the glistening pool that had formed beneath his wide-spread feet. Instead of proudly splattering his own belly or arcing across the room (toward Loki), all of Thor’s seed had accumulated beneath, from the downturned head of his weeping cock. Inventive, perverted Midgardians—he’d found another perfect device, this one to trap Thor’s impressive manhood and keep it bound and soft, his balls cinched up against his body but separated from each other.

Vulnerable.

Mm, a  _cock cage,_  it was called. Finally, a cage worthy of the golden prince's mighty _hammer._ They’d started without even allowing Thor’s greatest asset to rise to its full potential, and so, from the very first spurt—the first  _powerful_  spill—his cock had been penitent, humbled, curved into a bow and giving up its sacrifice onto the cold stone floor.

Thor’s fury had been delicious. And his rising  _(… well ...)_  concern at the result of his bindings … _mm._

And Thor quickly learned not to beseech his brother for release. Because Loki would give him release. He would give him release over … and _over_ … and  ** _over._**

He wondered, yes, if Thor had kept count. Loki guessed they were somewhere in the teens by now, based on the way Thor’s balls had long run dry. He knew how much virile seed they could give up, when Thor was cheerful and willing. He had enjoyed his brother’s body enough, and been enjoyed in return. Their couplings, when Thor was free to do as he pleased, never disappointed.

Right now, though, Loki just wanted a different kind of fun. He’d wanted a show.

And he’d gotten it.

Thor’s head had fallen forward, his hair shielding his face, and he was panting weakly. He’d tried it once before, hiding himself, after the second (third?) sudden climax, and Loki had  _tsk-tsked_  at him and just held the button down longer until Thor had understood his face was to be seen. What fun was watching Thor suffering if Loki couldn’t actually  _watch_  him suffer?

_A show,_  Thor.

But this? Was different. A single drop of come trailed from the the tormented head of Thor’s cock and dripped in a long thread to join its fellows. It was the final pathetic product of Thor’s last peak. His sac, indeed, had nothing left to give, and Thor’s form was just as limp and seemingly lifeless. It was all an illusion, Loki knew—free Thor now and his power would come streaming back (as vigorously as his manhood), and Loki? Would face an unfortunate retribution. A just punishment.

That wouldn’t do.

Unless.

_Unless_  Thor could be gotten to play along, at least for awhile. To stay and enjoy Loki thoroughly.

Thor always did like to play. And it would be so worth it, even if Loki would barely be able to walk the next day.

He paused to stroke fingertips once more over the device (just a tiny smirk at the hitch he heard in Thor’s breath—yes, he was still being watched), and stood from the chair. Approached his once-brother, careful to step around the shimmering ejaculate.

And whispered in Thor’s ear. Just as he had done earlier in the day, as he nosed the slick, egg-shaped stimulator into his captive’s resistant hole. (“I lubricated it, brother—what more do you want?” he’d sneered, trying to hide the humor in his voice. And then nipped at Thor’s neck as the device popped through the tight ring of muscle and slid perfectly into place. Talked over Thor's grunt: “I’m not cruel, after all.” Thor had tried to bite him, then, snapped at him with jaws like a reptile, which had earned him his first … reward.)

Now, Thor was nowhere near biting. He raised his head, eyes sharp and glistening with tears of pleasure-pain, as Loki stepped closer—as Loki stepped up to him and once more nosed his neck, where his yellow hair curled in loose, sweaty locks.

“Brother,” Loki whispered, and enjoyed how Thor’s entire form tightened once more, as if the cheerful little egg were still pulsing electricity into the swollen bud deep within him. “Calm yourself, brother. I will release you now, on three conditions.” Smiled against Thor’s jugular at the disbelieving huff he got in response. “No, I mean it—just three.”

Thor lifted his head once again, and managed a resigned smile. He  _did_  so like to play. “What conditions, brother,” he sighed.

Loki trailed a fingertip down the sweat of his brother’s bare chest. “Simple. One, you don’t kill me, once you are released.” That fingertip circled a nipple, and Thor snorted through his nose. His strength was already returning—the idiot.  _Of course_  it was. “Two, you entertain me for the rest of the—” Loki thought for a moment. “—evening.” That wouldn’t be pushing it.

Thor just waited.

Loki continued. “And three?” He looked down pointedly, raising an eyebrow as if surprised by what he found. “You help me clean this up. Really, Thor—it’s a bit much.” Dodged another snap of agile jaws.

(Yes, his strength was already returning. _Promising.)_

It was an impossible offer to resist—impossible if Thor wanted to be released from this rack before he lost his mind or his balls inverted—and Loki knew there were enough loopholes to allow Thor to genuinely beat him to a pulp, if that was the direction in which his desires lay. Thor  _would_  beat him to a pulp—or possibly press him into the rack and return the torment, which would be interesting, at least. But …

_But …_

Thor was nothing if not inventive, himself. And, freed from his bonds, he immediately fell to obeying Loki's conditions, _all_ of them. So Loki only struggled a little--and just for show--as he was pressed to his knees, Thor's thick fingers in his nape, and made to put his wicked tongue to his brother's spill. To clean up the _mess_ he'd made.

The smirk on Thor's face, and the good hard fucking that came with it, made the inevitable beating afterward entirely worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> Now has a sort of spiritual, if not literal, sequel in [Overstimulated](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1193547).
> 
> [Find me on tumblr](http://hannahrhen.tumblr.com), celebrating Tom Hiddleston's birthday and slowly getting more interested in Winter Soldier.


End file.
